


Minutes

by Angelic_Temptress



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post-Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Temptress/pseuds/Angelic_Temptress
Summary: There have been dozens of these, but this one is mine. The month we didn't see, with a canon divergence because damn the gods.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 55
Kudos: 189





	1. One

1.

Jaime pulled Brienne close and wrapped his maimed arm about her shoulders. She looked to him with her bright, gorgeous eyes, but he could not read what she was thinking. 

He’d been inelegant with this courting, he knew. His nerves had gotten the better of him when he’d initially followed her to her chambers, and the wine had been a last minute addition to relax himself. Jaime had never been with anyone except Cersei, and he’d been unsure if Brienne had turned to someone else in the time they’d been apart. He’d no idea if he could satisfy her or if she’d wanted him to. 

But Brienne had seen through it, of course, and she’d been braver than he ever could have been. 

“How are you feeling?” he croaked. He swallowed the lump in his throat, still an inexperienced boy despite his exploration of this great woman. Jaime had focused on her pleasure, had done his best to go slow and make her first time memorable. 

Ser Brienne deserved as much. She deserved more. 

“Jaime,” she murmured, and his heart skipped a beat. “I… I’m not sure how I’m supposed to I feel.” Brienne had wanted him, maybe almost as much as he’d wanted her. 

“I think you enjoyed me, at the very least. Far more than you would have enjoyed the wildling.” 

Brienne laughed. It was magical. “Are you still going on about that? Are you still jealous?” Her cheeks flushed. Jaime could live the rest of his days surrounded by the color of her sparkling eyes and reddened cheeks, he knew. She could sustain him, her trust and belief could sustain him more than food or drink ever could. 

“He would have been too rough, I think.”

“Stop talking about Tormund Giantsbane,” Brienne commanded, and Jaime shut his mouth. Her hand trembled as she pushed his graying hair from his face. He couldn’t help sighing. 

Had he ever been touched in such a manner? By anyone? He could barely remember his mother but assumed she’d been gentle. Though stronger than most, the lady knight had always been gentle. Unbidden, Jaime pictured her with a babe and kneeling before a crying blonde child, and for the briefest of moments, he wondered if Brienne of Tarth wanted children. 

A finger traced his cheek, pulling him from his fascinations. He was still a little drunk and so damn tired, yet his humming skin and hardened cock cared little for his misgivings. 

“You’re welcome to kiss me,” Jaime dared softly and forced a sardonic smile. “Unless, of course, you have other ideas.”

“You want me to?” she asked, still unsure of his intentions, still unsure if his tasting of her had bound them. 

His name on her tongue had bound them. His mouth upon her center had bound them. Her strong, muscular legs wrapped about his hips had bound them. Her satisfaction and his release had bound them. But he knew they’d been bound long before tonight, long before he’d bedded Ser Brienne of Tarth. 

She kissed him, and they practiced and enjoyed its unfamiliar familiarity. Before long, he was inside her again, his thumb upon the button at her apex as he thrusted. She repeated his name like a prayer, breathlessly, and he, selfishly, yearned to hear her scream it. Jaime wanted all of Winterfell to know Brienne enjoyed his hand, his tongue, and his cock. 

He wanted the North to know the first lady Knight of the Seven Kingdoms chose him. 

+++


	2. Two

2.

Brienne went about her days as usual, tending to Lady Sansa and overseeing the run of Winterfell’s security. The only real difference was she now looked forward to her nights, and each was a chance to be with Jaime, to both touch him and talk to him without pretense or hesitation. 

In the time they’d known one another, they had barely touched, and she thought it possible to count the instances. She’d shoved him during their trek south, he’d placed a hand over her own twice, and she’d once gripped his elbow. 

Now, they couldn’t stop. When they ate in the great hall, their thighs pressed against the other’s. When in the yard overlooking the young soldiers, Jaime always made sure to nonchalantly brush past her, and it sent shivers of anticipation through her core. 

But during the hours between sunset and sunrise, he needed every bit of her. He demanded her mouth and swallowed her moans, and they made love slowly and fucked fiercely. He kneeled before her and she before him. 

Tonight, he threw her thick leg over his shoulder, and she watched the muscles of his abdomen work, entranced. Brienne could get lost in the etched lines of his beautiful body, in the salt of his once golden hair, and in the admiration of his green eyes. 

How could he be real? How could he be hers? 

Jaime kissed her knee and playfully grazed her skin with his teeth. “You approve of this position, Ser?” He unexpectedly reduced his pace, and the moments that passed were almost agony. He pulled, and her thighs shook. When he pushed again, Jaime leaned forward, sunk even deeper, and stretched Brienne. She nearly came undone simply with the new sensation, and instinctually, touched herself to make sure she did. 

+++


	3. Three

3\. 

“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough here in the North?” Brienne questioned. With her breeches crumpled on the floor, he had her pressed against their chamber door. One of her impossibly long legs was over his hip, and he was already inside of her. She’d been slick and ready for him, and he’d been naked and hungry for her to return from her duties. 

“I suppose it will be your responsibility to keep me warm.” He moved as slowly as he could muster and quaked when she moaned against his ear. So he wouldn’t spill too soon, Jaime tried to focus on his breathing. 

She teased, “And how do you suggest I do that?” 

“Vow to keep fucking me.” 

With a small laugh, Brienne’s boot dug into his rear, urging Jaime to thrust again. Her walls tightened around him, and he grunted. His lady knight was full of surprises. 

It wasn’t long before she urged him to lay before their roaring fire, and his bare arse trembled against the cold stone. Brienne settled atop him, her weight welcomed and warm, and he gasped as she guided him inside. Her fingers made quick work of her tunic to reveal her modest breasts, and she leaned forward to place her elbows to either side of his head. Jaime knew she enjoyed this position most of all. This way, she was able to choose a rhythm of her liking yet still remain close enough to look at him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She lazily rode him, and he bucked to meet her. 

Jaime stupidly finished inside of Brienne this time, unable to refuse her as she spasmed above him. Before he could apologize, she took his mouth with her own. 

+++


	4. Four

4\. 

Brienne lay in the iron tub as Jaime rinsed the suds from her hair. He’d insisted on washing her, perhaps as repayment for when she had once washed him a lifetime ago. Though not his dominant, his left was strong as he massaged her muscles and scrubbed her skin. 

He slid his fingers along her collarbone and then down to gently circle the nipple of her left breast. Brienne trembled, and he smirked. He cupped it briefly before daring lower, into the soapy water to stroke her with his middle digit. Jaime had quickly learned to play her as a minstrel would pluck his lyre, invoking blissful notes at his leisure. 

“Brienne,” he muttered against her hair. “Nothing gives me more joy than this.” 

She moved to capture his lips before she spoke against them. “Tell me why,” she pleaded, breathless. After all the years of cruel japes and scornful roses, the names and the laughter, Brienne needed it spoken. 

“You taste of the south,” he continued, kissing her between statements, “and I harden at the thought of your sated, blushing skin and your sapphire eyes. When I add a teaspoon of the allotted honey to my porridge each morning, I think of tonguing the sweet length of your cunt.” Brienne quivered and clutched at his strong jawline, urging him to open his mouth to her again. His deft fingers slipped inside of her then, and her thighs tightened about his hand. Jaime gently bit her lower lip, and the heat coiled at the base of her stomach erupted. 

As her body shook, she thought she could see stars.

After she caught her breath, Brienne beckoned Jaime to disrobe, and he stood to follow her instructions. He took his time and made a show of it, a stark difference when compared to their first night together. He casually pulled the tunic over his head and grinned his fetching grin before dropping his breeches upon the floor. He proudly showcased his erection, and Brienne drank in his beauty. The years had been kind to him, despite everything he’d been through. Silver speckled every bit of his hair, but his muscles were lean. 

Bathwater spilled when she pulled him into her tub and again when she positioned herself atop him. 

Brienne smugly fucked Jaime to completion and was sure to sear his satiated expression into memory. 

+++


	5. Five

5\. 

Not long after she dismissed her students, his darling Brienne tugged him into the armory. She barred the door and shoved him against it. Wearing what could be considered a devilish grin, she knelt before him and pulled her gloves off her hands to unlace his pants. 

It was fucking cold, and Jaime nearly cried out when she took him into her hot mouth and pumped him with her calloused hand. His lady looked to him from beneath pale lashes as she relentlessly sucked the head of his cock, and the sight was almost too much to bear. Though he resisted the urge to buck, he could think of nothing else, but instead rifled his hand into her hair. 

She smiled around him when he moaned, and he had a sudden urge to wipe the grin from her face. Jaime pulled Brienne to her feet to taste his salt on her tongue as he clumsily unlaced her pants. Before she could complain, he bent her over the wooden table beside the tourney swords and pushed himself inside of her. In just four thrusts, Jaime came and held Brienne’s hips in place as he did. 

He knew then he ached to put a babe in her belly, a child with goodness in her heart and skill in her wrist. A daughter of two knights would lay waste to society’s ridiculous conventions. 

Later that evening, Brienne’s moon blood arrived, and a part of Jaime, the honest part, was crestfallen. 

+++


	6. Six

6.

“You haven’t been thinking about her?”

Jaime looked to Brienne as if she’d struck him. “I haven’t had reason to.”

It was the first she’d asked about his sister, the malicious specter haunting them in quiet moments like these, when they weren’t sparring or fucking.

News from Dragonstone had come earlier that day, news that Cersei had caught Daenerys unawares, killing a dragon and executing an advisor.

_Lady Sansa warned them against moving too soon. She never underestimated the queen._

When Brienne had shared the information with Jaime, it was as if the outside war had found them, as if the spell that had allowed their coupling had finally broken. Why the world had suddenly caved in around them, she did not know. Nothing had changed in the month that Jamie had kept to her bed, but the Northern air again was thick with death and fear. Once more, their roles were quietly defined, no longer blurred with the relief that had blanketed them after victory. Jaime was still the vile Kingslayer and Brienne, the ugly woman who lumbered behind the Lady of Winterfell.

“I’d understand if you left,” she said without filter and without tears. Despite her cruelty, his beautiful sister had mothered his children, and for that fact alone, the siblings would forever be grotesquely bound to one another. Brienne could never be bound to Jaime in such a way, and she doubted he’d want her to be.

He didn’t want things growing on him. He’d said as much.

Jaime’s green eyes softened before he looked away. “If you could have saved your brother, wouldn’t you have tried?”

“My brother had been only a boy. He never murdered anyone.”

He frowned, instantly regretful. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant.”

Jaime paused before he spoke again, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. “Catelyn Stark had the right of it, sweetling.” He’d never called her that before. “You’re the truer knight.”

He meant it, she knew.

That night, she dreamed of her knighting, recalled his nervous hand and the crackle of the fire.

His face was made for firelight.

_Arise, Ser Brienne._

Before the cheers and the applause, they'd been lost in one another. Brienne would cherish that memory until the dirt claimed her.

+++


	7. Seven

7.

He’d made sure to satisfy her again, before he’d quietly dressed and snuck away while she slept. Jaime had never felt more cowardly than in that moment, and he hoped Brienne would learn to hate him like the rest of the kingdom already did. He deserved that, at the very least.

He was in the middle of awkwardly tying down his saddlebag when she spoke, and he cursed under his breath before he responded. They conversed tersely, but he tried not to listen. If Jaime listened to her reason, he wouldn’t leave, and the self-loathing that hadn’t always been there would no longer be able to drive his actions.

When she took his face into her hands, his heart sank. Jaime should have known Brienne would not make this easy.

Bathed in winter moonlight, his love could have been mistaken for a grieving widow. She wore nothing but the black dressing gown Sansa had sown her, never more beautiful. And although Brienne was not a beautiful woman, in this light… Jaime imagined Oathkeeper strapped at her waist with the red and gold leather that branded her as his.

The Warrior had been a woman all along.

Tears. His stubborn, infallible knight pleaded, and his chest tightened. His only hand went to her wrist, and his thumb caressed the skin there. It was all the comfort he allowed himself to offer. He instead listed his awful deeds, as if Brienne needed reminding of who he was, and her hands dropped to her sides.

But she’d known, no? Hadn’t she known him better than anyone?

“She’s hateful. And so am I,” Jaime managed and believed it would be enough for her to leave him be. She would wail and watch as he rode away, for that was what brokenhearted women did, and he would never return to her. His heart, of course, would remain behind for Brienne to carry, and she’d never know.

But she did not react as expected. She once again clutched at his face and jerked his head to meet her rightful rage.

“No.”

“No?”

“Your brother and I both know you are better than that. Your good deeds do not wash the bad, but you are more than what your sister insists you are, more than you insist you are.”

“Brienne,” he choked on a sob. “This is not how this happens.”

“Is there someone who determines our destinies? Your sister? The old gods? The new?” She tilted his head and shifted even closer. “The gods are fools, and we are fools if you ride south tonight.”

Though Jaime thought he felt the wind strengthen and believed the night screamed for him to mount the damned horse, his lady knight radiated with conviction. It was overwhelming. _She_ was overwhelming. He could almost feel the puppet strings that pulled at his appendages, the twine which urged him south.

He resisted.

Jaime kissed Brienne. His gloved hand moved to the back of her head so she could not escape him, and her lips quickly parted for his tongue. Together, they stumbled to a castle wall, ideas of riding toward a war neither of them belonged nearly forgotten. Brienne shoved him against the stone, nearly cracking his head, and it was then when he remembered she could sustain him, remembered that her trust and belief could sustain him more than food or drink ever could.

“Don’t let me forget, Brienne,” he begged against her plump mouth with no explanation of what he meant. He did not ride that night. Instead, Jaime told the gods to fuck themselves. He rid Brienne of her northern, widow’s garb and loved her until morning.

King’s Landing still burned. Two queens still died, and weeks passed before Winterfell knew what had transpired.

Jaime next traveled to the capital accompanying Ned Stark’s children, a representative of the Westerlands. He remained at Bran Stark’s side, a Hand without a hand, to repair the kingdoms their families had warred across, and his wife served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Everyday, they sat and bickered in small council meetings, and every night, they climbed into their shared bed, content.

+END+


End file.
